RENEWALS
by jennii.b
Summary: Set mid-X-Men Origins: Wolverine... Logan's road to justice leads him to meet a new ally, one who wants nothing from him in return. Together their winding path leads them from separate roads of self-destruction to form a bond of true friendship that will begin to ease bruised souls. (Elvish OC)
1. Chapter 1

_**I'm not a comic guru, so my experience with these particular characters is limited.**_

_**My indoctrination in the world of the X-men came via my son.**_

_**Upon seeing the X-men Origins: Wolverine**_

_**I felt deeply Jimmy Logan and Victor Creed's humanity.**_

_**The concept of Logan and Victor's immortality fascinates me.**_

_**Perhaps this should have been billed as a crossover fic.**_

_**Certainly, if you're an LotR fan you're going to see the references there.**_

_**For the rest, they're not too terribly overt—not enough so that it should affect your enjoyment **_

_**of the story being told.**_

_**I cannot help but imagine that not all of the elves would have gone over the sea, no matter how much the human race effects the land it claims. I cannot help but imagine that some of them would have stayed—would have integrated to some degree into our culture and yet stayed apart of them.**_

_**There are some very real logistical problems with being immortal.**_

_**Having to constantly reinvent yourself would be one.**_

_**You wouldn't be able to live for generations in the house of your father and your grandfather.**_

_**Wouldn't pass it down to your children.**_

_**Would have to constantly shift and change and accommodate the way the world worked.**_

_**It would, I imagine, be emotionally draining. Wearying.**_

_**And yet I hope that tucked in some corner of the world, shepherding growing things, there still exists a clan or two of the elder race, watching and waiting and working…**_

… **- - - …**

(Our tale picks up after Logan dines with the Hudsons…)

She wandered out to the barn after the last of the dishes had been placed in the drain to dry. She waited that long.

"So..." she pushed open the door to find him crouched against a stall. "You don't smoke, do you?"

"What?" She'd interrupted his very private misery. Interrupted his reliving of the betrayals, one after another.

"Barn...hay...you don't smoke, do you?"

His snort of laughter was harsh, abrupt. "No, no, I don't. But for the clothes your father gave me I have nothing whatsoever."

"Did you smoke?"

"Once or twice. Never for long. Need a bum?"

She shook her head slowly, the rain-straight locks swishing around her shoulders. "I've never understood the rapture that comes of sucking burning plants into your lungs. Fire is meant to purge and purify and comes from nature. It was never meant for temporary transformations."

His eyebrows shot straight up. She'd spoken very little during the meal. Certainly she'd said nothing that sounded like this.

He wasn't in the mood to be receptive.

"Have you a long, sad story?" she asked. "Or has a fate kinder than memory been yours?"

"I have memories."

She nodded, then passed him a bottle. He realized it was open. Her nocturnal trek must have included a few swigs. With nothing better to dull his heartache he took a swig.

"Are you going to tell me how you managed to dismember the guest bath?" she asked as he swallowed.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try."

He shook his head. "I thank your family for its kindness. I thank your father for the use of your brother's clothes. But I will not willingly involve you in what I've done or what I'm going to do."

She was silent. Pensive.

They passed the bottle back and forth a few times before he had to ask about the brew.

"What the hell is that-moonshine?"

"Aruvir."

"What?"

She shook her head. "Call it homemade brandy. It's warming and restoring and obliterating all at once. And, unless you heal abnormally, it'll give you a hell of a headache in the morning."

"Give me another slug," he ordered, holding out his hand.

"Don't get hungover?" she asked.

"Don't get hungover. Ever."

"He was my husband."

"I'm sorry?"

"The man whose clothes you're wearing, the son whose seat you took this evening. He wasn't my brother. He was my husband."  
"I'm sorry."

"No sorrier than I. When I met him I fell in love with him. And I felt relief at knowing that I could. And I made the bargain-with myself-that it would be enough."

"He left you?" Logan guessed.

"He did. He lies now in a graveyard with his brethren. Men who were brave enough to stand up and try to serve a greater good. I tell myself that I'm not sorry. That good memories are more than a lot of my kind get. That I had my forever...my small, precious forever."

Logan sniffed and brushed at his mouth with the back of his hand. The bottle hung forgotten from his fingers. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Don't be stupid. Whatever is inside you that ripped and sliced like that-whatever vengeance and hurt are in your heart-don't be stupid."

"Was your husband murdered by a brother?"

She closed her eyes. His pain was an aura of heat and fouled the air around him. "He was. A raid went bad and one of the men in the accompanying unit or troop or whatever went berserk. Apparently he made a habit of brutalizing women after their men were dead or captured. When one of Gavin's officers tried to stop him he killed the man, then flew into a rage. Gavin stood with his brothers and he died with them. There were few survivors left to tell the tale."

"Jesus, you could be talking about my brother."

"I doubt there was only one who lost reason and responsibility in that place. Many men feel the primitive bloodlust and are unable to deal with the adrenaline afterward. And, I think, some simply like to kill. Perhaps some hate simply as well. I just don't know. I'll never know. Never understand what drives men to conquer. It never, ever turns back the clock to a better time. I felt Gavin's pain. I know it was present in other men within his command as well. Some men simply can't draw lines and box it in. When their minds break they lash out."

"You would forgive him?"

"If I knew for certain I faced the man who killed my husband I would rip his heart still beating from his chest and make him watch as I set it on fire."

Logan simply raised his eyebrows.

"I had but one lifetime to spend with my husband. Precious few years. I wanted that. I wanted two decades to sleep with him and weave dreams with him and call him mine. That's all I asked in my prayers. Even that was not to be."

"And you didn't have his child before he left?" Logan asked softly.

She shook her head.

"I served."

"I saw the tags."

"I walked away from my unit. They'd crossed that line and I left them in a jungle in the middle of Africa."

"Wise choice."

"My brother-my flesh and blood brother-killed Kayla because of it."

"That is his sin and not yours. And I guess it had something to do with your running naked into our barn?"

He snorted again. "It did."

Loden reached out to stroke the back of his hand with her knuckles. "If I may? This is not a time to be rash. The best of revenges can all do with a bit of planning and preparation. I don't know what was done to you. But I look in your eyes and I see a man whose memories hold more than a thirty-something. Or forty-something. My father-in-law told you I know history. He told the truth of it. He told what he believes to be true. Tell me your history."

Logan shook his head. "I can't do this-I can't replace your husband tonight."

Loden laughed happily. "I made vows and will keep them a while longer at least. You've no fear of me slipping into your bed."

Logan's eyes cut sideways and narrowed. His jaw clenched and shifted. "Tell me who you work for."

"I'm an entrepreneur. I have history degrees from five of the world's most prestigious colleges. I'm no seductress. Right now I'm a farmer, helping fill the hole in hearts that still hurt from putting a son in the ground beneath the colors. So...who did you work for?"

"I'm going to bed."

"Fine. But remember this. In the morning you'll be offered assistance. Because you're obviously a good man and obviously one in need of help. I can keep them safe if I know what to look for. I can't if you give me nothing."

"I won't ask them for money."

"Money's not a problem. Take all you want."

"Then what?"

"I don't know, Logan. That's what's behind you." She rose, swiping the dust and chaff from her dark pants. "Enjoy your bottle."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning she brought a change of clothes to the barn when her husband's mother brought out a breakfast tray. Loaded into the bag with the clothes were a few other items she thought he'd need, a pre-loaded cash card among them. As well as a razor. Whether he thought he needed it or not.

Logan smiled from his place on Gavin's bike. His eyes met Loden's and he saw the liquid emotion flood them.

"I don't have to take it," he quickly offered.

She shook her head, her mother-in-law speaking softly and sweetly for them all.

The bullet that ripped her flesh took them all by surprise.

Loden screamed as Logan lowered the old man to the ground. "Come on!" he shouted.

"What?"

"The bird! The helicopter! We have to get out of here!"

"I can't just leave them!" she cried.

He picked her up, shielding her body from the window, and shoved her ahead of him. "You won't die in here, too."

"What?"

"I'll keep you as safe as I can! You have to trust me!"

Seconds before the explosion he roared out of the barn, his body shielding hers.

He continued to shield her as bullets rained down around them, pinging off the chassis and being absorbed by his body.

"You wanna tell me about this bike now?" he asked.  
"It was my husband's. His favorite. I wanted it to last forever."

"So..."

"I rebuilt it using mithril."  
"Which is?"

"The strongest substance on earth."

"You mean the strongest _known_ substance."

"No-I mean the strongest substance. There are others humans have yet to discover that are almost as strong. Some that are known only to a few. Trust me, Logan. My assurances are solidly based in what is true and factual."

"I'm going to reserve judgment on that one."  
"You do that."

The battle was furious, although he found her an apt partner, almost connected to his intent. And obedient, which more than made up for any failings in her instinct. When he ordered her behind him she moved. When he ordered her to jump she jumped. When he reached out an arm to catch her behind him again she leapt. Trust, it seemed, when given was given completely.

Until he was left standing beside a broken tool of war.

"They were innocents. They were good people."

Zero laughed and he turned away.

Loden skidded to a stop behind him on the motorcycle. "Logan?"

He didn't really look at her. Didn't acknowledge the question or the command.

Instead he took the claws that had been gifted him and sparked the ground with them. And was grateful for the changes in his body that would let him hunt the others down.

Loden simply slid forward, shifting her weight as he came to rest behind her.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she skimmed turns and skirted debris in the roadway. Headed back the way they'd come.

"Did you have a driver's license and bank card with you?" she asked.

She felt him shake his head. She was being the more practical at the moment.

"What will you tell the authorities?"

"I'm going to let them decide there was a training exercise that went horribly tragically wrong. Then I'm going to buy a disposable cell and call Mom and Dad and tell them that I'm all right and having a great time and will call them later. That way no flags go up on any of my domestic accounts."

"You sound like you've got some experience with this sort of thing."

"Let's get some cash and pick up a few other things. We can talk about what we know and what we only think we know later."

"I need to meet a friend."

"Any metal going to come popping out of any body parts I need to know about?"

Logan found it in himself to chuckle. "No, ma'am."

"Fine. Then shut up and let me grieve my dead."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

"No sorrier than I am."

He leaned forward, resting his brow on her shoulder. In a selfish flash he felt that he was the sorrier. For weighing heavily atop his anger and his own grief was guilt at having brought this to her family.


	3. Chapter 3

Once they found out about the Island, once they found an ally and their information, they were on the road again. Loden wondered at herself - - she'd been quick to latch onto this quest. She wondered if she'd been seeking a release from her husband's family for longer than she cared to admit.

Meeting their intended target and inside man brought her firmly back into reality's grasp. She loved the jolt.

It was edifying to see the dynamics working between the Wolverine and his former associate. It was enlightening to see how the woodsman handled confrontation. Unsurprisingly, he just barrelled right in…and Gambit smeared Logan without a second glance. The older man gasped as he hit the hard stonework once more. His eyes widened at the sight of Loden leaning against some crates.

"Are you just going to stand there?!"

"Where did you think my hands would aid you, Logan? I'm not bullet proof, I don't have claws or fangs or super-speed. I can't whistle or blow bubbles. I think you'll handle this one well on your own."

Loden made to enter the fight when Sabretooth arrived to add his chaos.

"Don't let him get away!" Logan gestured to the quickly retreating back of his younger quarry. She nodded, leaping onto the rooftops to keep the fleeing man in her sights. And her heart hurt for the one lying dead in the alley. For the brothers fighting beside him. She rounded up Gambit and herded him back to her erstwhile partner. It gave Loden pause, to consider the viciousness of the world around her.

She enjoyed the young man once he'd opened up to the idea of assisting them on their quest. When he returned to the plane after Three Mile Island was destroyed without her newest project she slipped out, jogging across the space in wonder. Her sharp ears picked up the sounds of his shuffling jog even over the abuse of the sirens screaming toward them…

"Come on, Logan."

"You know me?"

"It's a bad idea to get total and complete strangers out of trouble. I live within the law whenever possible. Get going."

"I'll find my own way."

"Leave with the one that brought you, Logan."

"What's your name?"

"Loden."

"Like mine?"

"Very like to it. Come, now. We'll disappear and see what can be done to heal you."

"I'm uninjured."

"Perhaps. But that doesn't mean that damage wasn't done you."

He glanced behind him, then looked at her outstretched hand.

Loden arched a brow. "Not so very long ago you told me to trust you. You picked me up, leaned down into my face, and shouted that I had to trust you and that you would keep me as safe as you could. I'm returning the favor, Logan. Echoing the promise. Now let's go lay low somewhere. Later I'll see if I can't find your jacket."

"Why do I need a jacket?"

"Because it was my husband's before it was yours. So far you've gotten everything but his grave blown up. I'm not risking taking you to Arlington, but I'd like to keep the jacket if I can."

He laughed. "I can't be friends with you. You're insane."

"I'm a sentimental pragmatist."

"Insane."

"Maybe so. But you have plenty of time to decide that."

She took his wrist, tugging to pull him into the woods. He followed. He kept up when she called for more speed. She ran like a deer, light and fleeting so that the only sound of their passage came from him. And he was very good at running. He followed when she ordered him to duck beneath the water that flowed through a drainage pipe. Together they surfaced-hardly feeling refreshed or smelling cleaner for the dunk in running water-in a tiny alcove.

"This was probably a badger's hole," she told him. "We should be safe here until nightfall.

He shrugged, pulling his soaking-wet shirt over his head and draping it from some dangling roots. "What are we doing in the meantime?"

"You're going to lie back and let me see what I can do about getting you back on an even keel."

Testosterone ran strong in him; his gaze flickered over her moderately pretty face with the over-large eyes and wide lips to the drenched shirt that clung to her figure. His brow arched and his eyes sparkled wickedly even as he reached to pull her toward him in the hip-deep water.

"Eh." She pulled back, but not before she considered giving in. Something in the man tugged at her. "Not where I was going with that."

"Aren't we lovers?"

"Not yet. Maybe not ever. I'm still deciding. For now consider me someone who might be a sister."

"And you can make light underground?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "You have your talents, I have mine."

"What are my talents? I practice witchcraft as well?"

"Our gifts are not the ability to wield magic. I'm elvish. You're...different."

"How?"

"Your tags say 'Wolverine', Logan. There's a beast in you that comes out when you need it."

"Does that frighten you?"

"Only in that it gives you pain. I can't tell you everything. There hasn't been time for you to tell me all that you were. I'm going to try to salvage some of your memories. I don't know how successful I'll be. Do you know your last name?"

He shook his head and removed his tags. _James Logan_. The name meant almost nothing to him.


	4. Chapter 4

He offered her his dogtags on his open palm.

"I want my memories."

"They'll hurt you."

"All of them?"

She shook her head. "If a man only had bad memories he'd have nothing to hurt him - -nothing to compare them to. For a man to be broken he has to know that there is good in the world and that he's partaken of it. Otherwise it's just a void."

"I want the good ones."

"I won't be able to pick and choose."

He was silent for a moment. "Do it," he said finally.

"There should be a ledge somewhere," Loden told him. "Badgers sleep higher than the entrance to their lairs."

"Smart creatures."

"Kissing cousins."

"Gotcha." He found it before she did.

"Good. Plant your butt up there and lean back."

He did as she asked, settling against the dirt wall. He was going to be a mess. She was going to have to find him another shirt before they went anywhere near civilization.

"You have to relax. You have to let me put you to sleep and then you have to let me into your dreams so I can get in your mind."

"How does the beast come out?" he asked.

She pressed her lips together. "I've only ever seen you shoot out these three pseudo-claws." She took his hand, fisted it, and touched the spaces between his knuckles. "You're invincible; I don't know if you're immortal or not, but I suspect it. I've seen you get smacked around and run over and everything else and nothing seems to harm you. Other than _that _you look human-ish. Your brother's teeth actually look canine. And his fingernails seriously more closely resemble a wolf's or a lion's than a human's. Plus he does this really cool running, leaping thing. No mortal I've ever seen can run that way. I know you can climb and run faster, more agilely than 'normal' humans. I don't know all your limitations."

He crossed his wrists in the small space and concentrated. His claws shot out with a ring.

"They're metal."

"That they are. From what I've gathered you volunteered for a mission that had you agreeing to have a metal derived from certain asteroids bonded with your skeleton. That's part of your angst. The way they manipulated that is part of your angst."

"But you're going to put me under and retrieve that memory. Are you safe?"

"I trust you. Now, put your toys away and close your eyes."

He did, swallowing hard once before he shifted back against the damp wall. Even on the submerged ledge he was sitting in four inches of water.

When she moved to straddle him, reaching out to touch his temples, he looked up.

"And we're keeping this purely platonic, right?" he asked, bringing his hands to rest at her waist.

She smiled down at him. It was a predator's smile. "I've seen you butt-assed naked before. We have no secrets."

"I just don't want you to get more than you bargained for there."

His smile was wide and easy. She felt sorry for what she was about to do. But she wanted him to have the memory of a forever love. A sacrificial love. Wide and encompassing and true. And for that she would open his heart to the torture he'd already endured once.

"Trust me."

"Do you want to tie my hands or something?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I trust you."


	5. Chapter 5

Two towns north, they stopped running.

Loden bought shirts and underthings and let new boots and id and the rest fall by the wayside. She'd find a contact soon, but she was running low on reserves.

She brought the clothes and toiletries, along with dinner things, back to the hotel where he waited.

"There was a woman," he said again as soon as she hit the door. He'd obviously been pacing. His hands had run through his hair repeatedly. He began unburdening her as he waited for an answer.

"Yes," she told him wearily.

"Who was she?"

"Everything."

Then, to what would be her unending embarrassment, she passed out.

Logan caught her, letting the bags drop to the floor. A quick check of her pulse revealed that her heartbeat was strong and steady. He lifted her, settling her onto one of the twin beds in the cheap hotel room. The dark circles under her eyes and easy breaths that she took assured him that she was simply exhausted. Something he felt he should have seen and anticipated.

Hours later she woke, sticky from the sweat of her troubled dreams and with the confusion of being in an unfamiliar place.

Logan looked up from the small table where he was playing solitaire with the cards he'd found in a drawer.

"Are you with us again for certain this time?"

Loden blinked, sitting up.

"What do you remember?" she asked.

"Not as much as I'd like. And little of it makes sense to me."

"Life's like that," she muttered, standing to strip off her jacket as she headed straight for the bathroom. Logan heard the shower start. And, after that, the sound of her retching. When something in him started to rise he decided against it. Obviously she'd needed the privacy or she wouldn't have turned on the shower first.

Minutes later, however, when he heard the water stop, he ventured across the room.

His quick knock was answered immediately.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, wrapped in a towel with another around her neck.

Logan simply shook his head. "I thought you might want something else to put on." He held out the shopping bags, her things separated from the things he'd already unloaded and put away.

"I appreciate it. I appreciate that you brought everything else in here while I slept. I just ran out of steam."

"You had nightmares," he told her, turning to lean back against the wall while she dressed.

Her silence told her more than most admissions would.

"My name was not in them."

"No."

"Kayla's was."

Another silence.

"Are you injured?" he asked at last. He knew that - - knew that Kayla had died of a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Just as he knew that he'd seen her and not recognized her when he'd stood over her body with Gambit.

"I'm fine," she told him, opening the door. She wore jeans and a form-fitting t-shirt. Her feet were bare. Her hair hung in damp hanks to the middle of her back. And still there were circles under her eyes. "I'm not going to die on you unless someone kills me."

"Someone killed Kayla."

"And I'm not stoic or tough or proud. If I get shot you'll hear about it - - loud and clear."

"See that I do. Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she whooshed. "Is there a microwave in here?"

He nodded, a bit chagrinned. "There is, but when you didn't get up I ate your dinner. Do you feel like going out or do you want me to go get something?"

She frowned at him. "I guess a Ruben isn't really breakfast food anyway," she sighed.

"You want breakfast?"

She glanced at her watch. Seven o'clock. "I only slept a couple hours and you ate my food?!" _God_! No wonder she still felt like crap. She'd been on a bike for the better part of a day and a half, then she'd shopped, which was seriously low on her list of favorite pastimes, and she'd only been asleep since around five. And, from what he'd said, she'd slept poorly.

"Seven o'clock _Tuesday night_," he corrected.

"Bull_shit_."

Logan arched a brow at her. He had reached for the remote for the crappy little TV when she gave in.

"Okay. Okay!"


	6. Chapter 6

"What's your poison?" the waitress at the bar across the street asked.

Loden looked at Logan. "An MGD, draft if you have it on tap, and a Corona Light with a glass," she answered.

"Right up," the perky blonde chirped and teetered away.

"Tell 'er you're my brother and she might give you a shot at it," Loden snapped at him.

"What?"

"Were you watching her ass in that little skirt?"

"No, but if you remind me I'll be sure to check it out. We look enough alike to pass for brother and sister?"

She shrugged, then nodded, dropping her head to her hand. Her elbow was probably going to stick to the tabletop and she seriously wasn't in the mood to find out what substances comprised the nasty film. She was exhausted still, heartsick, and starving. Plus she figured there was good possibility that she was going to sick up whatever she ate, so she had to be careful choosing.

"Are you all right?" Logan asked her.

She shook her head. She couldn't tell him that his nightmares were her nightmares now. That her own emotions were now tangled with his. She needed to recoup and fast so that she could heal what she could and break the open link between them.

She hadn't been able to find an herbalist. She'd look again tomorrow.

"How did you know what I like?" Logan asked her. "I haven't remembered yet. I know I like beer. I can remember drinking it over and over and over. With different people. But I can't see the labels on the bottles. I don't remember what flavor it is."

"Hang tight. Here it comes," she said softly. "I ordered what you've ordered every time we've been somewhere. I have a good memory for details like that."

He nodded seriously and she smiled weakly at him, sitting up to give her dinner order to the young woman. She opted for steak with home fries. Logan seconded the order.

His drink came in a bottle, nice and cold and sweaty already in the humid bar. He took a long pull while she poured hers carefully into a pilsner glass. It was perfect. Exactly what he'd wanted while he sat in that hotel room and watched her thrash her way through dreams before sinking again into something like oblivion.

"Good choice?"

"The best. What else do I like?"

"I don't know."

"Why aren't you in most of my memories?"

"We've known each other about a week."

"_Really_?"

"Really."

"Why did I go to you for help?"

"Fate."

"Why did you help me?"

"What the hell else was I going to do? I was fully prepared to watch you ride away on my husband's bike wearing my husband's leathers until the A-team showed up to blow my world to hell and back." She sighed. He watched her sip her drink, then rub circles on the table with the sweat that dripped from the sides. "I'm sorry. It was time soon, anyway. I just hated to leave them. They had Gavin so much longer than I did. It was like keeping him alive, living in that house. But I couldn't have stayed much longer without questions being asked. This is better. I can sell the property - - it makes sense not to keep it if other people think I've taken off with some guy. The funds will go into the pot and somebody gets one hell of a piece of land."

"You like working the land?"

She nodded. "I was good at it. We are. We're woodland creatures by nature, but the woodlands are shrinking and changing. Nurturing the things that come from the earth is as natural to us as breathing. The land does not soon forget when elves have used it."

"I think of elves as being short with pointed ears and bells on their toes."

"Good old Santa Claus. Surprise, surprise."

"Do you sing?"

"Yes."

"Do you dance?"

"Yes."

"Can you cast spells or whatever?"

"Under certain circumstances. I'm not a witch. I'm more likely to curse you through a solemn vow than to throw some eye of newt in a cauldron and cackle at the moon."

"I howl at the moon."

"Well that's a show I look forward to. What kind of connection do you and your brother have? Can you remember anything about that?"

He shook his head. "I'm not at all certain what I feel for him."

"I'm going to put you on a signature card at a couple of banks. You can use my last name or come up with one of your own."

"Logan Keukuatsheu."


	7. Chapter 7

"For real?"

"I'm not an American anymore. I'm Canadian."

Loden rolled her eyes. "I've been American for the last two hundred years or so."

"What were you before that?"

"Irish a couple of times. I liked being Portuguese. I didn't like being Czech. American is what I'm going to stick with, though."

"Why?"

"Because it's home. It can be a thousand things in a thousand places a thousand different ways and still be good."

"You stay in one place for a while-until you can't conceivably stay there without 'aging' and then you move on?"

She nodded.

"I fought in the War Between the States and both World Wars and Vietnam."

"Busy boy. I've been around since men stopped clubbing people. I can trace my ancestry back to the time when the continents split."

"You win. I'll let you know if I remember farther back than that."

She laughed.

"What special skill do you get with being an elf?"

"I can move pretty quietly in the woods. Get a sense of things from surrounding wildlife. Hear trees talk. And I'm pretty good with a bow and arrow."

"I think I might have used to be a lumberjack."

"That blows. I might have to take you in the woods someday and dump you."

"I'm a wild animal, too. Won't I be okay?"

"Unless you're part beaver we'll work through it."

"But you're just going to hand over your banking information to me?"

She shrugged. "It's just money, Logan. I can make more. People are irreplaceable. Cash isn't."

"Spoken like someone who has lots," the waitress chirped.

Loden tapped her glass. "Keep 'em coming and you'll find me very generous."

"She's going to want some fried cheesecake for dessert," Logan supplied. "Do you serve that here?"

"Nope. No desserts here. But the wing place down the street will have some. I think."

He drained his bottle and placed it on her tray. "I'm very grateful," he told her.

She smiled, basking in his magnetism, before simpering away.

"You do that well."

"Practice."

She handed over her card to pay for their meal and the drinks that had accompanied it. The waitress hovered helpfully as she signed the check.

"Loden Greenleaf, huh?" The card was for an LLC - - Loden Legal Associates.

"Yeah," the woman muttered. "You could say that my parents were the original flower children. His name is Logan Keukuatsheu."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I'm just grateful they stuck me with the 'Greenleaf' and him with the Native Inuit heritage."

"Okay. Well, then, if you need anything-I'm Kimmie. With two Ms and an I E."

"Thanks, Kimmie," Logan told her as he slid off the bench. Outside he laughed about it. "_Kimmie. That's Kimmie-M-M-I-E_."

"You probably left her number on the back of the receipt she slid you."

"I don't need the Kimmies in the world."

She nodded. "Logan, I'm sorry. I'm just not done sleeping it off and now I've got three beers in my system and-"

He regarded her in the gaudy neon lights lining the street. "If we have tons of money to throw away, why are we staying here?"

"Because coughing up a couple hundred untraceable cash to shack up isn't going to draw as much attention as two people dressed like we are paying a couple thou in cash."

He nodded. "I'm sorry to have brought your life into such scrutiny."

"It was time again, soon, anyway."

"Will they not be able to trace your name from the accident at the farm to the card you just used?"

She shook her head again. "I have lots of personas. But right now-"

He scooped her up and carried her inside before settling her gently down at the foot of a bed. "I'll take care of you for a change," he promised. "Do you want me to run you a bath? Rub your feet?"

She shook her head. "Just get out of my way if I tell you to."

"Always."

With that she drew herself farther up on the bed and curled up, not even kicking off her shoes or pulling a sheet over herself. Those chores he took care of while she slept. Then he sat and planned and wondered.


End file.
